Leaves of Flame ch-2

by Benjamin Tate

  The cliffs reminded Colin of the stone Bluff on the plains far to the south and he shuddered. He didn’t have fond memories of the Bluff.

  Near midafternoon, he noticed the Order and the Phalanx getting edgy, their unconscious defensive group tightening up, their faces tense, hands resting more and more on the handles of their cattans.

  Then Petraen halted sharply and half drew his blade, crying out in warning.

  “What is it?” Vaeren snapped from behind Colin, his own hand on his blade.

  To the side, Eraeth and one of the Phalanx scanned the horizon where Petraen had focused, Boreaus in a half crouch… but Petraen was already relaxing. He let his blade slide back into its sheath, frowning as he shook his head and straightened.

  “It’s… nothing. I thought I saw something.”

  “What?” Vaeren demanded, stepping forward. “Where?”

  Petraen motioned with one hand toward the base of the ice face. “Movement to the west, near that collapsed section. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. But there’s nothing there.”

  Everyone considered the scattered chunks of ice he’d indicated, Boreaus rising slowly from his guarded crouch, until Colin said, “It might be the ward.”

  “What do you mean?” Eraeth asked. He kept glancing toward the debris.

  “We’re close enough to the ward for it to begin affecting all of you. It’s placed on the ice wall.”

  “So the Well is close?” Vaeren moved forward as he spoke, out ahead of Colin, searching the wall of ice as if looking for the Well itself.

  “No, but the entrance to the cavern that will take us to it is.” He moved to Vaeren’s side, but spoke to the entire group. “Stay here. You’re all already on edge, if you get any closer, it will only get worse as the ward takes hold of you. I’ll go see if it has been disturbed or tested in any way, then come back to retrieve you once I’ve taken it down.”

  He didn’t wait for their response, but headed straight toward the nearest section of the glacier and what looked like a solid wall of ice. But it wasn’t solid-that was an effect of the ward. He could see the layers of the ward as he approached, the air growing colder as he passed into the shadow beneath the immense glacier, ice closing in around him. Long ago, he’d thought the Bluff was immense, but this was staggering. He could no longer see the top of the ice cliff, even leaning backward and staring straight up, but he didn’t try. He focused on the ward instead, on the illusion of solidness that he’d placed over the entrance to the cavern. Nothing seemed to have disturbed the threads of power he’d laid down at its center. The knot he’d used to tie it off was still secure.

  He stood back, glanced toward where the rest of the group huddled on the open tundra watching him, then back to the walls. Grunting, he began to follow the threads that spun out from the central knot, checking each one carefully as he moved, first right, then left.

  Nothing. No thread was out of place, no tie touched. As far as he could tell, no one had attempted to pass the ward, and he knew this was the only approach to the Well. He’d made certain of that before he’d left.

  Reaching forward, he pulled at the knot in the center and watched the entire ward unravel, the threads relaxing and settling back into their natural shape. As they did, the ice wall in front of him shimmered and collapsed, revealing the gaping mouth of a cavern. Someone from the group behind shouted as it happened, even as Colin felt the tendrils of tension that had radiated out from the ward and set the rest of the group on edge release.

  He turned and motioned Vaeren and the others forward. As Aeren and Eraeth approached, he said, “The ward was intact and untouched. No one has been here, as I said back in Caercaern. But we should check the Well itself, in case Walter or the Wraiths found another way in. There wasn’t one thirty years ago, but the glacier is moving. Something may have cracked or crumbled, opening up another entrance.”

  “Are you saying the Well is inside the glacier?” Petraen asked, eyes wide.

  “Not originally, but it is now.”

  “How is it that the glacier didn’t destroy it?” Siobhaen asked, stepping forward up onto the ridge of debris that had been ground up from the glacier itself and looking into the dark hollow of the entrance. The winter sunlight didn’t penetrate very far, but it was enough to see that the cavern walls were smooth, as if the ice had melted and refrozen.

  Behind her, both Vaeren and Eraeth motioned for the others to break out torches.

  “The Well generates its own heat. When the ice began to encroach on the Well, the glacier itself melted around it.” A hissing whoosh and the stench of oil filled the air as the first torch was lit, followed by a second. Colin motioned Vaeren forward as he continued. “At first, the Well’s heat merely carved out a chasm through the ice, like a hot knife slicing through butter. But as the glacier grew and ground its way farther south, it became too large. It covered the Well, the heat carving out a hollow inside it. We’re at the end of that hollow now.”

  “How do you know this?” one of the Phalanx guardsmen asked.

  Colin smiled and caught the man’s eye. “I went back and watched it happen.”

  They entered the tunnel, the heat-smoothed walls of ice closing up around them. Now that Vaeren knew where they had to go, he ranged out ahead of them, torch held high to light the way. The ground beneath was mostly level, like the tundra outside, covered with rock and grass that had shriveled and dried after being closed off from the sunlight. As within the Gaurraenan’s halls, Colin felt the weight of the ice above pressing down on him, although unlike the stone of the mountains, this weight sent shivers of cold down into his back. The torches blazed off the ice walls, shimmering against the smooth surface or refracting oddly where the immense weight of the glacier had caused the ice to crack or shatter as it moved. Occasionally, large chunks of ice had broken free and fallen to the ground, but nothing significant enough to block their path.

  They paused to rest twice at Aeren’s insistence, Vaeren anxious to keep moving, pacing even as the rest groaned and settled against the ice wall or, like Petraen, threw themselves flat on the ground. Boreaus passed out cooked meat he’d saved from the last few roasts. Without the sun, they couldn’t tell how much time had passed. When Aeren called a halt for sleep, Vaeren shot him a dark glare and drew breath to protest, but a soft yet sharp word from Siobhaen kept him quiet.

  Colin tried to rest, but couldn’t. Lying flat on the rough ground, he stared up at the darkened ceiling of ice. The Lifeblood tingled through his skin, even though they were still distant. He could taste it, like leaves and ice and earth all mingled together on his tongue. It pulsed in his blood as well. In the dimness of the small fire they’d kept burning, he reached up and pulled the sleeve of his shirt back and looked at the swirling black stains that wound around his arm, like oil beneath his skin. If he concentrated hard enough, he could sense it shifting around within him, down both his arms, tendrils of it reaching into his chest.

  It had gotten much worse after the Escarpment, no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay, no matter how long he stayed away from the Well or kept himself from drinking the Lifeblood. The need to create the Trees and then his obsession with the knife… they had both taken their toll.

  He dropped his arm, then rolled onto his side, startled when he looked across the fire and saw Siobhaen watching him, her brow creased with a frown. She turned away as soon as she caught his gaze, troubled. He thought about moving to speak with her, since it was obvious neither of them could sleep, but he hesitated and eventually rolled away from the flames to face the darkness of his shadow against the ice wall.

  He slept fitfully, the Lifeblood seething inside him.

  7

  “We’ll reach the well today,” Colin announced when they woke, the others packing up what little they’d taken out the night before. He noticed they kept their cattans free, their clothing loose. Here inside the cavern, they didn’t need the heavy clothes to keep the harsh wind at bay and so were dressed i
n layers mostly to protect against the cold. “Stay near me at the Well. And don’t drink from it, don’t even touch it.” He pulled back his sleeve enough for everyone to see the black marks, heard one of them suck in a sharp breath, another whisper “shaeveran.” He caught all of their gazes with a hard glare. “It will change you, even with a touch.”

  Then he spun and led them down the tunnel. Everyone stayed close, and everyone was on edge. Colin drew their tension around him like a cloak, his focus on the Well, on what he would find when he reached it.

  He nearly gasped when, from the darkness ahead, he saw a faint flicker of bluish light.

  “What is it?” Vaeren spat behind him. Only then did he realize he’d halted in his tracks, that he stood with his staff angled defensively before him.

  Eraeth and Aeren came up on his left, Siobhaen to the right. He motioned to the faint glow with his staff. “There shouldn’t be any light.”

  Both Vaeren and Eraeth reached for their cattans. They shot each other annoyed glares.

  “What does it mean?” Aeren asked.

  “The light comes from the Well. It means that something has definitely disturbed their balance. This happened before, when Walter and the Wraiths began awakening the Wells the first time.”

  “So it doesn’t mean that someone is at the Well now.”

  “No. But someone has been to one of the Wells somewhere and manipulated it.”

  “Back in Caercaern, you said that none of the Wells have been touched,” Vaeren said.

  Colin frowned at the harshness in his voice. “I said none of the Wells that we know of have been disturbed.”

  Vaeren’s eyes narrowed at the distinction, but before he could say anything Eraeth broke in.

  “Vaeren, Siobhaen, and I will take the lead,” he said, “Colin and Aeren the center, the rest behind. We’ll use the torches until the light ahead is bright enough we can see without them.”

  He didn’t wait for an argument, simply stepped forward, drawing his cattan. A moment later, Siobhaen and Vaeren joined him, their own blades bare, moving cautiously but quickly. A short time later, Eraeth motioned for the torches to be doused, their bearers grinding them into the soil and smothering their flames with their feet. The bluish light filled the tunnel, and as it grew, Colin picked out a faint pulse to its glow. The pall of the Lifeblood fell across him, heavier and heavier the closer they came, throbbing in his skin in time with the light. His grip tightened on his staff and his heart quickened, falling into the same rhythm.

  The tunnel widened, the ceiling reaching away at a slow slope. Eraeth increased the pace, the group fanning out.

  And then the tunnel ended, expanding into a huge chamber, the ceiling of ice rising into a massive dome. The ground rose slightly, the wind-torn grass of the tundra giving way abruptly to trees. Water dripped down from the heights in a slow, steady fall of rain, and as they stepped forward to the edge of the forest, they could feel the heat pressing forward, damp and humid against their faces. Colin wiped the wetness from his face with one hand, saw many of the others doing the same. The rain pattered against the wide, flat, copper-colored leaves of the trees as they entered the grove, runneling down the smooth edges and dripping from the sharp yellowed tips. Within twenty paces, Colin’s hair was plastered to his forehead, water seeping in under the edge of his clothing and settling uncomfortably against his skin. He noticed the others pulling at the collars of their shirts and shrugging their shoulders as they adjusted to the annoyance.

  They continued forward, the forest silent except for the rainfall, the white-barked trunks of the trees slipping by on either side. The Phalanx and the Flame had circled Colin and Aeren and were scanning beneath the foliage, swords bared, but they saw nothing.

  After a long moment, and at a backward, questioning glance from Eraeth, Colin said, “It should be just ahead.”

  Ten paces beyond, the land rose in a steep ridge, the boles of the trees falling away as it flattened into a circular stone plaza.

  The Well stood in the center, its edge rising from the flat stone to waist height. There was nothing else in the plaza, although when he had been here last, Colin had found evidence of other structures built on top of the stone, their foundations still visible as outlines on the surface. The strange trees surrounded the plaza on all sides, their branches draping over the edge of the platform in places.

  “How can there be trees?” Aeren asked. He whispered, but his voice breaking the near silence still made some of the Phalanx start. “No sunlight can reach down here.”

  “The Well,” Colin said, moving out from the edge of the platform toward its lip even as he spoke. “The Lifeblood keeps them alive.”

  The group reformed, Colin drawing up to the edge of the Well to stare down into the depths of the perfectly flat water, the bluish light washing up over his face, the rest hanging back. He could taste the Lifeblood now, wanted to reach out and drink it down, feel its coolness in his mouth, slipping down his throat and suffusing his body with warmth. The need was an ache. When he reached one hand forward, it trembled. He stared at it, the skin pale, nearly translucent, the marks that had pulled free of the cover of his sleeve a hideous black in contrast.

  “I need to see if I can find out what has happened through the Well,” Colin said. “I won’t be aware of what’s happening around me as I work.”

  Eraeth immediately ordered the rest of Aeren’s Phalanx to spread out, halfway between the Well and the trees. Vaeren grudgingly did the same, sending Siobhaen, Petraen, and Boreaus to join them. Both Vaeren and Aeren remained close to Colin, who turned his attention completely on the Well and the pulsations of light.

  With a small sigh of regret, he leaned forward and dipped his hand into the water, bringing it to his lips. He drank as little as possible, enough to connect him to the Well and no more. The tingling cold fire of it burned as he swallowed.

  He leaned forward onto the stone lip, then closed his eyes and sank to his knees at its edge, as if in prayer in one of Diermani’s churches. He nearly crossed himself in reflex-shoulder, shoulder, heart, waist-but halted the gesture mid-motion with a small smile and a shake of his head.

  Then he sank into the Well.

  He dove deep, through the pulsating light and into the depths, even though he knew his body remained behind, at the lip of the Well, protected by Aeren and Eraeth and the others. He followed the Lifeblood, followed its taste of leaves and earth and snow, deep and deeper, until the flow that fed this Well emptied out into a vast reservoir of Lifeblood, a lake of power far beneath the surface of the earth. A lake that spread southward, beneath the lands that the Alvritshai had once claimed as their own, beneath the mountains. It grew shallow in places, deeper in others, was blocked by pillars of earth and stone and rock through huge sections of land and narrowed down to channels in others. He followed those channels, wove his way along them, rising to the surface through streams whose mouths were the Wells that had been discovered over the past few hundred years, Wells like those in the Ostraell at the heart of the dwarren plains. At each Well, he checked his wards and found them intact, so he kept roaming, reaching out along additional channels, along less familiar routes, searching for something that was different.

  As he skirted the edges of the Lifeblood beneath the dwarren’s easternmost lands, he found it.

  The flow of the Lifeblood had changed, the currents eddying in new directions. He felt them drawing him eastward, pulling him with a strength greater than any he’d felt before. He let himself be drawn along this new direction, felt himself funneled into new paths, ones that had not existed thirty years before. But as he was swept along, he realized that they had existed thirty years before. He felt the age in the rock, felt the hunger of the stone as the Lifeblood coursed through it, speeding eastward. These passages had been here long before the dwarren claimed the plains, long before the Faelehgre had built their city around the Well and been caught and transformed by it. These channels that now seethed with the Lifebl
ood had been closed off somehow, blocked.

  And someone had released that block.

  That was what had upset the balance of the Wells. That was what had caused the return of the ethereal storms on the dwarren plains, and the occumaen and iriaem of the White Wastes.

  Walter.

  Colin’s heart seized in his chest and he suddenly realized that the current dragging him eastward had increased, stronger now than it had been before. He began to struggle against it, fought his way back toward the west, felt a moment of pure panic as he thought the current had gotten too strong. As he struggled, he reached out to the east with thin tendrils, tried to determine where the new channels ended, because he suddenly knew that that was where he would find Walter, where he would find the Wraiths. He sensed further branches of the Lifeblood, far beyond the edges of dwarren lands. He snaked more tendrils east, followed as many of the paths as he could, but they all led toward the same location, toward the same central source.

  Then, at the edges of his senses, stretched so thin he thought he would snap, he caught the faint vestige of another reservoir, another lake of Lifeblood so vast he gasped. His strength fled, and for a moment he lost his struggle against the current and was dragged toward that vast sea buried deep beneath the land.

  A vast sea that had recently been awakened.

  He snatched the tendrils back to himself, gathered them close. He couldn’t spare anything for a further search, for further answers. The currents of the Lifeblood had him, were increasing as they drove him toward that sea. He needed everything he had to push against it, to force himself through the churning flow. Surging forward, he struggled back through the formerly blocked channels, his progress increasing with every step forward as the strength of the current decreased, until he roared from the opened mouth of the passage and back onto familiar ground.